


don't wanna be a bad guy

by screechfox



Series: we're going for a ride [1]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chameleon Arch, Drabble Sequence, F/M, improper use of the word 'psychopath', set somewhen in series 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 20:36:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12176121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/screechfox/pseuds/screechfox
Summary: “Rory?” Amy asks, sounding cautious, but not scared. He smiles, lop-sided and lazy.“Sort of.” His reply is soft, his voice simultaneously tinged with amusement and regret. He pulls himself up into a sitting position.(Or, a sequence of drabble-length snapshots based around my favourite unlikely theory from back in the day.)





	don't wanna be a bad guy

**Author's Note:**

> so i've loved this little piece of fanon since back when it was an actual theory that people held, and not some idea. while i'm glad it never happened in the show (because i love rory) it's still a fun idea.
> 
> these are the first drabbles i've ever written, and i don't know why, because they let me write all the fun bits and none of the faff. and believe me, i've been thinking about this fic for a week: there's a _lot_ of faff.
> 
> (title from 'i can't decide' by the scissor sisters. because i'm not original.)

**1.**

“Rory?” Amy asks, sounding cautious, but not scared. He smiles, lop-sided and lazy.

“Sort of.” His reply is soft, his voice simultaneously tinged with amusement and regret. He pulls himself up into a sitting position.

“Master?” The Doctor asks, sounding _terrified_. The lazy smile grows wider, shifting into a smirk with only a hint of feral viciousness behind it.

“Sort of,” he repeats, with no regret at all. He directs his gaze between them, and feels a laugh bubbling up in his throat, low and manic.

A golden watch sits in his hand. The metal is cold; the power, spent.

 

**2.**

“You killed Rassilon,” the Doctor says. It’s not a question; his eyes are hard.

The Master nods guilelessly, then looks at the Doctor. He laughs, baring his teeth in a parody of a friendly smile.

“Don’t give me those sad eyes. You’d have done it yourself.” He pauses, then laughs some more. “If I hadn’t, you would have. Even _Rassilon_ couldn’t survive the burning of Gallifrey.”

“That’s not comparable,” snaps the Doctor, gritting his teeth and setting his jaw.

“It’s definitely comparable,” the Master replies, expression wide open. “It was justice. Both times, justice. Surely you can’t argue with that?”

 

**3.**

“Who are you?” Amy asks. Her face is unreadable - but then, he’s always found her a little bit unreadable.

“Remember mixing colours in nursery,” he starts. She blinks. “You mix blue and yellow, and you get green, and so on.” He takes a deep breath, wondering at his own reluctance to break the news. “Well, here I am. I’m green.”

All at once, Amy’s harshness crumples.

“Please don’t cry,” he says quickly. “I never know what to do when you cry.”

She makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. He doesn’t know if that’s better or not.

 

**4.**

There’s a disgruntled murmuring in the back of his head as he enters the TARDIS.  

Neither the Doctor nor Amy stop him as he moves up towards the console, though it doesn’t take genius to know that they’re watching him carefully.

He doesn’t stroke the console, or anything so Doctorish as that. (Even if he _wanted_ to, his cuffed wrists make it impossible.)

But he looks at it, sighs, and, after a while, speaks.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he says with a quiet voice. His words hang in the still air.

Ultimately, it stops seeming so angry with him.

 

**5.**

Somewhen, River Song arrives. She stares, expression devastated.

“Hello, _kiddo_ ,” he says, because he’s growing tired of being looked at like a tragedy by everybody, and his daughter is no exception.

She exhales, schooling her face into a stoic expression that she’s inherited from somewhere. He’d find it funny if he weren’t so annoyed with it by now.

“They’re keeping you locked up, aren’t they?” He nods slowly, wondering where she’s going. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” River continues, with a wavering smile.

He begins to reply, and is hushed.

“Father, I break out of _Stormcage_ , regularly.”

 

**6.**

“You stole the TARDIS,” the Doctor cries. It’s unclear who he’s shouting at.

“Oh, it’s not like it’s the first time,” River dismisses blithely. The Master runs his hands over the console, glad that it’s stopped giving him shocks whenever he lets his guard down.

“You ran off with the _Master_.” The Doctor sounds righteously outraged.

“And he was perfectly well-behaved,” she says, smiling. “At least, by _my_ standards of well-behaved.”

“A whirlwind tour of the galaxy,” the Master says, mellow, “and we only killed the ones who _really_ deserved it.”

He doesn’t voice his conflicted feelings about even that.

 

**7.**

He’s lying on his bed when he hears the door open. It’s the Doctor, undoubtedly.

“You didn’t even give me a bedroom,” the Master says, faux-annoyed. “River and I had to get the TARDIS to make one - which, given that it was still holding a grudge, was easier said than done.”

There’s a long pause before the Doctor speaks.

“I thought, once you were safe… you’d want to share with Amy.”

It shocks a humourless laugh out of the Master.

“Well, _yes_. But why would she want to share with _me_?”

He doesn’t want to think about why he cares.

 

**8.**

“The Doctor’s annoyed by the whole stealing thing, but…” Amy trails off. He motions for her to continue. “Honestly, I’m kind of glad.”

Caught by surprise, he sits up, staring at her. Something hopeful sits in his expression.

“It gave me time to… mourn, I guess. To make peace with the fact that the Rory I married is gone.”

His expression shutters, but she continues on regardless.

“But also to make peace with the fact that you’re still him, in your way. You’re still my Rory.”

When she kisses him, it’s tender, cautious. He kisses back, smiling against her lips.

 

**9.**

“It’s selective empathy,” River declares. He’s been talked into painting her nails - it seems like a suitable father-daughter bonding exercise. “I get it too. It’s problematic, I know.”

“Is it,” he says, noncommittal. The red varnish glitters in the light.

“Well, _yes_.” She seems to think that it’s obvious. “It fools some people - _Amy_ \- into thinking you’re a good person, but it’s a terrible weakness if you actually _want_ to be bad.”

He cracks a smile.

“What terrible psychopaths we make, daughter mine.”

She laughs loudly, tipping her head back in delight.

“That we do, father dear, that we do.”

 

**10.**

“We’re going on a date,” Amy says, slinging an arm over his shoulders. He smiles at her, amused.

“The Doctor won’t let me leave the TARDIS, remember? He says I’m a ‘danger to society’.” He makes air-quotes with his fingers. It’s easy enough to joke with Amy - the Doctor goes solemn and quiet whenever he shows an inch of good humour.

“And?”

“How are _you_ -” he reaches back and pokes her in the chest, “- going to sneak me out of here?”

She grins. “What, don’t you have an evil plan already?”

He laughs. To be fair, he kind of does.

 

**11.**

“Stop avoiding me,” the Master snaps, when he’s finally grown bored of the way that the Doctor tiptoes around him.

The Doctor freezes, looking like a child who’s been caught stealing sweets: guilty, without really knowing why. Then he blinks, clearly forcing himself to relax.

“Oh, uh, yes. I should do that, shouldn’t I?”

The Master rolls his eyes.

“God, you’re giving me a headache. I can feel your nervousness, you know? Every telepath in the galaxy can hear it!”

The Doctor blinks again, and the Master huffs.

“You can’t ignore this forever, Doctor. Besides, I’m still your friend, remember?”

 

**12.**

At least there’s no shortage of things to do, on the TARDIS. He can’t spend all of his time being broken out by family members, after all.

He’s reading some sci-fi schlock in the library. Rory had gained a fondness for them, and apparently it had carried across, along with the two thousand years of dedication. He has to say, he’s enjoying them in an entirely new light now that he can dissect the realism of them.

The Doctor sits down beside him.

“Is it good?”

“It’s terrible. The book’s not bad, though.”

The Doctor laughs, and the Master smiles.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me at screechfoxes on tumblr!
> 
> have a good day, and if you enjoyed, consider commenting!


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